


Dinner invitation

by Sheffield



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 22:40:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7407997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheffield/pseuds/Sheffield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dark Mycroft makes some poisoners an offer they can't refuse</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner invitation

Both his legs were broken and two – no, three – ribs, Mycroft judged. Nevertheless he watched dispassionately as the man was strapped to the chair alongside his colleagues, the four of them wearing a motley collection of bruises from a rather untidy collection process. The ambulances had been the priority at the time, and the collection of the perpetrators rather lower on everyone's to-do list. Mycroft had reviewed the surveillance footage, particularly the body cameras worn by the extraction team, and was mildly satisfied by the speed with which the victims had been intubated, pumped full of appropriate drugs and helicoptered to the world-leading trauma centre where they were currently still – just – alive. That their attempted murderers had been bumped and banged about a bit while they were being bagged and cuffed and thrown into the back of a black van was neither here nor there.

Four angry pairs of eyes regarded him. Well, three and a half, but the swelling over the right eye of the second man would go down, given time and appropriate medical attention. Unfortunate, then, that neither was about to be forthcoming.

All four men were gagged at present, but Mycroft was in no hurry to break the silence. Instead he paced around the table, checking that everything was in order. Each man was firmly strapped to a chair, each chair firmly anchored to the floor. Each man's right hand was strapped down separately, so that, at the appropriate time, it could be released, but of course the rest of their bindings could not be unlocked one handed. Well, not by anyone of lesser ability than, say, Sherlock Holmes.

"Ah, here we are," Mycroft said genially as the next team of his minions started to arrive. The food was somewhat cold and rather unappetising, but they had bagged up and conveyed every item of food and drink apart from the samples taken for analysis at the hospital. Each item was carefully unpacked into the original container in which it had been served – a separate, third, team had wrapped and conveyed the crockery and silverware, with a brief diversion into the forensic lab of course – and the meal reconstructed down to the sprinkle of icing sugar on the torta della nonna. John Watson, Mycroft recalled, was particularly fond of torta della nonna and had eaten at least three bites before the medics arrived.

"Now gentlemen. In a moment your gags will be removed and your right hands will be released. Before you is, of course, the meal you so obligingly served to my brother and his companion this evening. I have a full forensic analysis of the contents of the meal waiting for my perusal but I felt it rather more urgent that the medical team attempting to preserve my brother's life should have the report. Nevertheless, I say to you in all seriousness that I expect you to consume every. single. morsel. of this repast. I am not interested in anything you may have to tell me. When I have finished speaking to you I shall leave here and attend to my brother at his bedside. My rather muscular assistants will remain to attend to you. All I will say is this: whatever is in this food, whatever the effects are likely to be, it will be far, far, better for you to consume every morsel and drop of what is before you on the table than to consider the alternative. Good day."

Mycroft looked carefully at the table, nodded once, and walked away.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #6: Food, Glorious Food


End file.
